Hard or Soft is not the question

This recent article on Patheos regarding hard vs soft polytheism made me stop and think about my own practice.

 

Years ago, when I had my first revelations, I started out very much a “hard” polytheist.  I had personal experiences, after all – it wasn’t philosophical, it was visceral, and it seemed obvious that gods existed.

 

Then I transitioned into a much, much softer phase.  After the initial excitement, I started to really delve into not only the history and mythology of what I was coming to believe, but also the philosophy.  I was coming at this from an academic perspective and some part of me was desperate to make it “rational” – the result was that I started to rationalize my experiences as psychological.  Oh, it was still religion, and it was still true in important ways, but looking back I put an amazing amount of effort into turning my personal experiences into something universal.

 

Reflecting the gods

A Kamidana, or household shrine,
with the mirror displayed in the center.
Image taken from Wikipedia commons.

Gods are everywhere because we are gods.

This is the lesson that I have learned from Shinto, and which I have incorporated into my understanding of my Welsh path.  This fact has informed my meditation, my practice, and my reading of myth for years.

If you were allowed to explore a Shinto shrine, you would find that in the deepest part of the shrine – I suppose one might call it the inner sanctuary – there is a mirror. Those with knowledge of Japanese religion might recall that one of the three Imperial treasures is a mirror as well.  On top of this, an important kind of offering that is prepared and given to the minor gods of home and garden is a set of small, round cakes of mochi  (a paste made by pounding glutinous rice) which are called kagami mochi…mirror mochi.

Lay the Spring Hearth

Since I stepped back onto my path again so many months ago now, things have not gone in such a straight line. I suppose that, all told, I should have expected a kind of spiral dance – but I confess I didn’t expect the barriers that have sprung up before me.

These are social and personal irritations, but the fact of the matter is that they have interfered with my ability to move in the direction I had hoped – a sign, perhaps, that the direction I had in mind is not the right one.  As we approach what I have called Gŵyl Braid y Canhwyllau (Brigid’s Feast of Candles), suddenly the way appears to be opening for a new beginning.

 But of course, I should have expected this for more than one reason.

More Than Stones

Syncretic Thoughts

I began my journey back in 1989, fumbling with ideas of Jungian archetypes and shamanic travelling and anthropological understandings of spirit.

I took my first steps on that path with the goal of learning who these gods were, and how to do them proper honour.  Before long, I had returned to my homeland Wales for a visit, and from the resonance with those ancient places it seemed clear that I should be devoting myself to Welsh and Brythonic deities. 

At first, I was a determined reconstructionist.  It was my academic background, I’m sure, that demanded I know what the “truth” was and adhere to it. I’m sure many new converts of any spiritual path are the same – and like those others, I gradually grew out of it.

Beginning the Path - Part 3 - The Door

Part 1
Part 2

Realising that I needed other guides was a big step forward –

A door had opened.

But the problem was that I had little idea where to turn: The local pagan community had given me support, but as anyone with this experience knows there is only so far others can lead you. The library had already given up all it could offer in this area.

I had struggled and read and asked all the rational questions that were possible, and now it seemed as though I had come to the end of the road.  For weeks I wrestled with the problem, tied up in my need to find signs, a map, a guide – something to tell me where to step next, how to lead myself out of the maze.  I spent the summer plagued by insomnia as I lay awake thinking.  Most nights, I eventually gave up trying to sleep and walked for hours, alone in the early hours of the morning – bathed in moonlight and soaking up the silence of the sleeping city streets. My summer job suffered, my friends thought I was cracking up, and maybe they were almost right.

The Dancer

While I struggle to put into words my experience of discovering the door to my gods in the third and final post on that narrative (recognising of course that it was really just a first step onto the path) I thought I'd comment on something I saw today that strikes quite close to home - an article on why cities are so much hotter than the countryside.

Where I live, what I do, it's sometimes difficult to really get away from the heat of summer.

Thankfully, I live outside Tokyo and commute daily - this gives me a bit of respite each and every day, and of course on weekends.  Tokyo has tried very hard to undo the damage of the 70s and 80s though, and the city has not only retained many of the little parks and shrines that dwell here, but has deliberately built up a few green zones and some buildings even have green spaces on the roofs. 

I'm desperate for more of course, but the little islands of green help a little.